Accidental Destinies
by MerelyImputed
Summary: A sudden family tragedy at once releases Freir from the stifling city life of Whiterun igniting her inner fire, and tethers her path to that of four others.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Freir... Freir. I've got to go out. C'rynn's asleep by the door again." Anekke's voice pierced Frier's dreamy morning routine.

"Just wake him and ask him to move."

"Freir, he's your cat. He only listens when you call him."

Freir's head appeared around her bedroom door. The impish look that annoyed Anekke so lit up her face. There was fun to be had here, she sensed. That particularly delightful kind that leads to your elder's embarrassment. "You're still scared of him Anekke, aren't you?" she asked with a grin.

"It's the way he looks at me."

"Well, you always scold him when he's trying to eat -"

"- OUR food! He tries to take it clean off the table. And you can get that look off your face young lady. I'm too busy for your games."

Freir laughed and walked into the living room still wearing her nightgown. "C'rynn, come here you big soppy thing. Scaring your aunty, you naughty cat." Her dutiful companion lazily hauled himself up from the hazy stupor he'd enveloped himself in. Only a cat could extract that much pleasure from a simple morning nap. She reached out and scratched behind his ear as he came close to her.

"I've never known a girl like you Freir. You're unique."

"Thanks" she smiled as C'rynn purred. A deep rumbling that seemed to shake the whole house.

"Who's ever heard of a Sabre Cat as a pet? I knew you'd be a handful when Sigurd sent you."

"Haha! You love me Anekke. And C'rynn. He'll always keep me safe, won't you you soppy boy. Aren't you a good boy?" She scratched under his huge, strong jaw with both hands and his rumble became a thunder.

Freir was a little short for a Nord girl, and slighter in build than most. She kept her jet black hair short revealing her sharply defined jaw and delicately shaped nose. Hardly anyone noticed the fine proportions of her features, or her diminutive stature. It was impossible to escape the lightening-flash ferocity of her sapphire-blue eyes.

Her striking looks brought Freir various kinds of attention from boys and girls alike, as often hostile as it was friendly, and for her it was a curse she'd struggled with since she came to stay in Whiterun almost a decade ago. Its hard enough being a newcomer in town when you're only eight, let alone as an orphan. All she wanted was to blend in, to be lost in the crowd, to be left to make sense of the world.

For Freir, the life of most Nords was unfathomable, unthinkable. The girls dutifully accepted a dull life of domestic servitude, even aspired to it, and their menfolk repaid them with an obsession with "valour" and "honour". For most, as far as she could tell, this meant drunken brawling, feuding between their clans, and tall tales of bravely murdering the innocent, intelligent wildlife that surrounded their city in the fertile central plain of Skyrim. For a few, their quest for honour left their wives and children alone for weeks and even months on end. Really? Were those stories of frost trolls and giant spiders believable to anybody? Who could say they hadn't just been in the skooma dens of Riften, spending their nights with the easy virtues of the Dunmer women? It was questions like this that made Freir unpopular with the other girls.

Freir yawned. "Anyway, why are you in such a hurry? Its more than an hour before the shop opens."

"We're going to busier than ever. He's coming, The Hero of Skyrim, The Dhovakiin. He's coming today." Anekke looked genuinely excited as she replied. The blank incomprehension on Freir's face told Anekke nothing had changed. What went on in that head of hers? It often seemed half of Freir was living somewhere far from here. It was to be expected Anneke supposed, given the start she'd had in this life. "I told you last week! You never listen do you? The Jarl is giving him the freedom of the city in thanks for what he did. People are coming from all over to see him. That means a lot of hungry people, and if we don't sell them sweetrolls and Horker loaf someone else will. Kyne knows we need the coin."

"So we're going to be overrun with mead-drenched glory-seeking louts and swooning empty-headed girlies. Great." Frier rolled her eyes and turned to C'rynn. "Looks like we'd better get out for the day C'rynn, or some ass will try and prove his virility by getting his head bitten off by you, eh?" A grin spread across her face. "Remember that idiot Beregrund? Ha! One swipe from you and he was out cold. Don't think the Guards'll be so understanding if it happens again."

"It didn't help matters that you hit him first."

"Well, he shouldn't have said what he did. He learnt his lesson. Didn't he C'rynn?" The powerful beast licked her arm as she moved to pat his powerful shoulder.

"Look, I've got to go. Just promise me you'll stay out of trouble you two."

"Bye Anekke." Freir carried on stroking C'rynn's thickly muscled neck. The door slammed shut as Anekke rushed out. "What are we going to do with ourselves today eh boy? We're fish out of the water here, you and me. Maybe she's right, maybe I was meant to be born elven eh? Or maybe I'm just not stupid like everyone else."

That was the day that Freir and C'rynn began to spend their days in the woodlands above the city, a decision that changed everything for them. Freir found she had an instinctive feel for the way of the world that the Nords seemed to want to cut themselves off from, to fight and conquer. As far as she could tell this was the cause of most of the strife they encountered in this beautiful, wintry land. She quickly found that if she listened to its song it repaid her, nourished her, and gave her the sense of peace and companionship she had always craved. Demia and Lemli always talked of their empty hearts, and longed for one of the local dullards to give them a house to scrub and screaming children to enslave themselves to. It made no sense to Freir. How could anyone be alone with such richness all around? The land breathed, it spoke to her, surrounded and cradled her.

Every now and then the woodland seemed to reciprocate her affection, open up to her, and let her see what for her were magical, almost sacred secrets. She would never forget seeing a foal come newly to the world, her mother gently licking her clean despite her exhaustion, hearing the tiny helpless thing's first bleating call.

She saw ugly sights too - the legionnaires escorting prisoners bound and sometimes gagged. Goading and beating them seemingly for fun. The deer carcass strewn on the pathway, its throat slit by a bandit practising his technique.

From outside, from among the trees, the city started to seem even more alien than when she was inside it. More like something born from the twisted and violent mind of the Deadric Lords than something made by the inhabitants of he land.

The rare herbs and mosses she found gave Anekke and Bruiri's breads a sought-after taste, and so Freir began to find a trade for herself, and more importantly for her a reason to be far away from the pressure she felt mounting from friends and Anekke to settle down, set C'rynn free, take a man. To give up on life. No chance. She was just beginning hers.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Weeks went by, and the season began to turn. The trees took on an elder statesman-like quality, auburns and golds making them seem almost royal as they stood proud on the hills around her home. Flowers gave way to berries. Freir began to understand the generosity of the world which gave birth to her and her people. As sad as it was that most turned their back on it, her gathering knowledge was uncommon, and she began to earn some grudging respect from the people of Whiterun. She realised the land around her would provide everything required for those who lived as part of it. The climate of their country meant Nords were prone to illness come the winter. They lacked the sources of warmth and light that humans need for well being in those cold and dark days of the land's hibernation and gestation. What were the berries of the autumnal blaze but stored and concentrated summer sunshine? The bears and deer native to their part of the world knew this instinctively, and took the gifts with gratitude. Freir was learning the arts of natural medicine and the ways of natural wisdom. She took every opportunity she could to watch the gentle teachers she was coming to love.

Early one clear, cold morning a herd of deer she and C'rynn had been observing for the last week were suddenly startled. En-mass they stampeded, ripping through the silence of the woodland. Instinctively Freir climbed a tree to see the cause – a travelling merchant. Not such a rare sight, but the nearest Hold was many hours ride away. They must have set off well before sunrise to be passing at this time. He looked young, not unattractive. The carriage bore the standard of Riften on the wheel hubs. A skooma trader? They don't have much else anyone wants there. Well, nothing anyone admits to. Probably explained the odd journey time too. The Jarls were "clamping down" again on the widely-used intoxicant. Blackmailing the crime families to pay for the coming civil war more likely. But the horse and driver looked strange somehow. The horse was finely muscled, like a thoroughbred, jet black, and uncomfortable in the harness. It looked far too valuable to be a carthorse, and bred for speed not strength. The driver looked more like a hardened brawler than a rich-man's servant. The scar on his right cheek was startlingly prominent. Jagged and deep like something left by the Jarl's torturer after a stay in the depths of the Dragonsreach castle dungeon. They passed going North, no doubt to Solitude. That's where all the money in Skyrim went. And always in such a hurry.

Her thoughts turned briefly to Sigurd, her brother. It was months since she last heard from him. Maybe his antiques business was finally taking off there. Solitude was crammed full of traders. Sigurd was determined to make something of himself, to honour their parents after all they sacrificed for them. Freir doubted he'd ever find the success he sought. She worried what the struggle to establish himself would do to him, for his competitors were surely as determined as him. How could he stay in that selfish greedy city? She wished he'd come to Whiterun with her. Freir soon forgot about her daydreams when she caught glimpse of a wolfpack prowling the edge of the forest. They would have to take care hunting for herbs today.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of autumn sunshine and foraging. The deer did not return, but the bountiful generosity of the wood made up for lost lessons. With this harvest she could treat most the city's cold-bourne ailments if only they'd listen.

That night the Aurora was mesmerising, a shimmering snake coiling around the black sky. The air was crystal clear and tingling with silence. Freir couldn't bring herself to go home to listen to talk of flour suppliers, lazy workhands and the rest of the pointless trader's gossip. She set a fire, and C'rynn curled around her. That moment was it. Perfection. Nothing could disturb them, they wanted nothing, needed nothing. The last night of Frier's childhood was the happiest the Nine had blessed her with.

Since she rescued him when she was twelve, a lame cub orphaned after a pack of ice wolves tried to take him from his dead mother, C'rynn never left her side. He would fight without hesitation to defend her if needed. Indeed sometimes she had to pull him back when it wasn't. He seemed to feel the same about the Nord way as her. Out in the wilds he was a sleek, powerful companion, serenely confident even when wolves or bears were near. But in Whiterun he seethed, prowled, like he expected to fight. Or worse. Perhaps he was tempted to hunt the docile city dwellers. He liked attention from the boys even less than she did. To them he was something to prove their manly honour against. Thankfully their natural cowardice prevented most of the encounters becoming too heated.

Freir was woken with a start early the next morning by the sound of C'rynn's warning snarl. A petrified courier stood in the road, shaking, transfixed on the fearsome form of a large angry sabre cat bearing its razor sharp teeth. C'rynn was in a half-crouch, threatening to pounce.

Freir put her hand on his shoulder. She could feel him straining, caught between the instinct to attack and loyalty to her wish. One word and the hapless messenger would be dead in a second. This was no bandit. He clearly meant no harm. Feeling in no danger Freir could not suppress the dark playfulness that always bubbled beneath her hardened exterior. "What's this? Sneaking up on a defenceless young woman? Give me a good reason to keep this Cat from eating you alive." The flash in her eyes sent a shiver down the terrified footman's spine.

"P-p-please miss, I'm n-n-n-no sneak-thief. I'm on official business. I carry a message from Elisif the Fair to the Jarl. It's urgent miss."

"From the high queen of Skyrim? Well, you'd better hurry. Before C'rynn gets too hungry" Frier couldn't help herself but giggle as the courier's ash white face turned and he nearly fell over himself to get away.

"Good boy C'rynn. Good boy. You scared the scrawny little man didn't you?" No matter how infantile the tone she used with him, he seemed to swell when she praised him. Did all sabre cats experience pride or just him? It tickled her that such a devastating predator could be brought to a point of total submission with a few seconds of scratching under his chin and a moments praise. The deep rumbling of his purr was a satisfying repayment. "Come on C'rynn, its breakfast time."

After a lazy morning grazing on the sweet secret delights of the woodland, Freir and her out-sized companion made their way home. Anekke was in, and she was distraught. "Where in Oblivion have you been? Oh Freir!" The bliss of last night evaporated in an instant. Anekke's expression shocked her. It was desperate fear, not the anger she expected to face.

"What is it Anekke? What's wrong? I was only in the woods. C'rynn will always keep me safe, you know that."

"Freir, sit down. Sit down child. Oh Kyne, how can this have happened? It's your Brother"

"Sigurd?"

"He's dead Freir." Anekke stopped her frantic pacing to look her niece in the eye. A moment of thick silence passed between them. Frier blinked, her eyes fixed on Anekke, her mind whirling to grasp what had just been said. She blinked again, suddenly there was a flash of anger.

"What? He can't be. How can you say that? How could you know?"

"The Jarl's Housecarl was here this morning, with a courier from Solitude. Elisif herself sent him. They think he was killed, and they wanted to warn us you may not be safe."

"Killed? Sigurd? Why? Who would do that? There's a mistake. He's just a trader. Why would anyone kill him over some dusty knick-knacks? Who would want to hurt us? We're nobody. This is absurd."

"I knew he'd cross someone. Ever since he sent you to stay with us, I knew he must be up to no good."

"This is stupid. Where's the courier? Where's the Housecarl? They've made a mistake. C'rynn, let's go. I'll sort this out Anekke. C'rynn. Get up. Come on."

They ran all the way to Dragonsreach, the crowds of morning shoppers in the marketplace parting to let the pair of them pass. The steps up to the main walkway seemed so steep. What was she going to say to get into the castle? She knew the Jarl's councillors distrusted her, and were especially nervous of her unusual companion. Thankfully the guards at the door of the castle were engrossed in some disagreement. The two of them brushed past, but were stopped as they entered the Castle. C'rynn snarled at the soldiers who had their swords levelled at Freir. They both changed target. Freir instinctively put hand on her companion's taut shoulder to hold him back.

"Halt! Stop there or I run you through." The steel in the Housecarl's voice matched the steel in her hand. "What is the meaning of this disturbance? Speak girl, before I throw you into the cells." One of the few Dark-Elves in Whiterun, Irileth made it clear she had mastered the battlemages' arts her Dunmer people were renowned for. Only a fool ignored her words of warning.

"You need to tell me about my brother. Now."

"Ah, you are the girl Elisif is concerned for. You are difficult to track down." Irileth looked her up and down. A flicker of respect?

"Why would anyone want to hurt me? or my brother? He's just a small time trinket dealer. We're nothing to anyone. It's a mistake."

"I admire your spirit young one. And your loyalty to your family. Elisif and I are concerned for your welfare. We don't want what happened to your brother to happen to you. And we don't want trouble on the streets here, or gossip and fear of Asassins and secret guilds." She sheathed her blade, signalled to the guards to do the same. Frier's distress was understandable. She posed no threat.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sigurd? You are the trader Sigurd of Solitude's sister? Orphaned 10 years ago, and living here with your Aunt and Uncle?" Frier nodded. She knew about her. How? "That companion of yours has caused me great consternation this past year. But that's a matter for another time. You must trust that I seek your welfare first and foremost. This will not be easy listening.

It seems your brother has become involved with the Dark Brotherhood, for whatever reason." Irileth's raised hand silenced Freir before she could begin to object. "Hear me child. It is in your interest. He's no killer, of that we are sure. But he has been trading with known Brotherhood operatives. It is likely he was assisting them clean some of their blood money through his antiques business. The Solitude guard had been surveilling him for some months now. We can only assume our watchers were being watched, and the Brotherhood considered his continued existence a liability. Or perhaps he had simply outlived his usefulness. Regardless, what we do know is the Brotherhood do not take chances. Family members and business partners are often silenced too. Anyone who may have information that could harm them. That is why we came to warn you. We can take you in for a while. Provide you with safety."

Freir's fury returned. "Imprison me while Sigurd's killer roams free?"

"That is not what I said. You would do well to listen, child. The danger you face is real."

"And so is my right to justice. I can't believe you are letting them get away with this." Freir was holding back her tears. She also knew deep down Sigurd sent her to live with Anekke and Bruiri for a reason. She never dared ask them what that reason might have been.

"Steps are being taken. Your concern should be for your safety."

This was pointless Freir thought to herself. They were clearly not going to do anything. Why should she be punished? "I am not some helpless little girl. Despite what you may think, Nord women can fight as well as any man. Or elf for that matter. I will not let a pathetic group of cowards scare me into hiding like a petty criminal. The killer's life is the only justice I will accept. C'rynn, come." Here was the deep sense of honour that so endeared the Nords to Irileth. A pity so few of them lived by it. Perhaps the coming conflict would restore the strength and courage they were so celebrated for in the rest of the Empire. Frier turned to the door and they both started toward it with purpose. The guards made to draw their weapons

"No. Let her go." The guards backed away at Irileth's command. "She has spoken well. She has made her choice. We have matters to attend to. A woman who can command such an animal has a strong will. She will not change her mind."

Once outside the castle Freir and C'rynn made straight for the city gates. Frier's mind was racing. Images of her brother flooded her thoughts. From the games they played in distant happier times when their parents were with them still, to the look on his face when he told her she was to live with their aunt and uncle. It was the first time someone had hidden something from her, the first time she saw that flicker of tension across someone's face. She had thought it was because he was courting a girl and didn't want her in the way. Now she knew it was something far more sinister he courted.

Oh, Sigurd. What have you done? What could be worth such a risk? She had to go. Now. Immediately. Because the killer would be coming for her. And because if she stopped for a second she might be overwhelmed with the grief and anger welling within her. The world around her was a distant blur. C'rynn and the city gate ahead of them were all she perceived.

All of a sudden another image flashed into her mind. The merchant – heading towards Solitude. The Riften carriage, that ugly driver. The horse. It must be. Her pace doubled, C'rynn matching her speed.

A child was playing near the river just outside the gate. "Gerund? Gerund. Come here." He looked up with a start. "Gerund, I need you to do something for me."

"Why should I?"

"Because I am your elder. Because it is important." He looked defiant. Always such a headstrong boy "And because I will reward you." Predictably this brought a keener interest from him.

"With what?"

"A sweetroll. Go to my Aunt's shop. Tell her I will be away for a while. That I love her. And that C'rynn will look after me, so she must not worry."

"Where are you going?"

"That doesn't concern you. Just make sure she gets the message."

"Where's my sweetroll?" Gerund looked annoyed by her refusal to give him gossip.

"She will give it to you when you have told her. Go now. Before I lose patience and set him on you." The boy looked at the Cat, then at her for a second, and saw the flash of cold determined rage in her eyes. He scampered toward the city gates. He wouldn't dare disobey her.

For a second she dwelled on what happen to Annke and Bruiri. They wouldn't be alone. The Jarl would see they were safe.

Freir looked up, surveying the landscape before her. Yesterday the trees welcomed her with promises of sanctuary and secrets. Now they threatened hidden danger and unknown assailants. "So, it begins. I hunt you as you hunt me. What are you made of? Do you know I'm coming for you?" She steeled herself against the coming struggle and the urge to hide. How in Oblivion did she become a mark for the Brotherhood? What kind of game were the Nine playing with her? She hadn't done anything to anyone. She would need all her wit, all the secrets she had learned about the land.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Where should she start? She was smart, she knew that. So she must be able to do this. The carriage passed going north. It would've left tracks. But she didn't know what route it took going back, assuming it was going back to Riften. That's all she knew, so that's where she would start.

It took her a little over half an hour to reach the road through the forest, and only a few minutes to see the signs left by the rushing merchant – dents in the track, flattened flowers, snapped twigs. When she realised how similar it was to looking for the signs left by the deer herds she had followed she started to feel more confident. "Look C'rynn, we can follow him. Hunt him. He's as helpless as a goat. There's no way he knows we're coming for him, or what we're going to do to him." She stroked her companion's thick fur. But his gently purring gave her little comfort. The ice shard of vengeance had started to grow within her. Cold, hard and sharp.

After following the tracks for a few leagues northward she saw what she had been looking for. To the right one of the many hunter's footpaths split from the main track. The soft ground kept a record of what passed over it, all you had to do was know how to ask, and how to listen to the answer. The hoof marks were clear and the wheel tracks looked starkly out of place against the lush grassland. No-one in their right mind would drive a carriage along this path. But then a cold-blooded murderer isn't in their right mind.  
What could she do but follow, and quick? At least this terrain would slow them down. Her an C'rynn could find some shortcuts. Just then she spotted a discarded cloak. It must have been his, trying to disguise himself. She picked it up and brought it to her companion's flaring nostrils. "Come on C'rynn, we've got to catch him".  
C'rynn knew what this was – a hunt. He pounded ahead as Freir started to run, then circled back around looking for any sign of their prey. They were a pack.  
Her urgent determination for the justice she deserved drove Freir on through the forest. Time stretched as the trees rushed by. Glimpses of the wheel tracks and hoof marks on the softer ground told her the land would keep them on the trail, and her confidence brought renewed pace.  
After a while something caught Freir's eye as they passed through a clearing. A bird was flying above. It seemed to be stationary while the landscaped passed in a blur. It was flying ahead of them. An eagle? Must be returning home.  
Just beyond the clearing a stream wove its way through the trees. C'rynn circled again, coming up on her left and passed, over the stream and into the woods. The eagle caught her eye again, ahead now and circling. The forest was full of hunters and prey today she thought to herself as she pushed herself onward. She had often wondered how such a generous and beautiful landscape could play host to some of the cruellest, most violent moments.  
A sound she had never heard before broke her familiar patterns of thought and dragged her back to the ugly reality she was running toward herself. It was a call. Unmistakeable. But no animal she had met could have made that sound. The eagle instantly reacted. It darted Eastwards, fast and straight, diving toward the trees. Was it the companion of a hunter? Her blood froze as a dagger-like thought pierced her mind. Was she the prey? The assassin. He must have found her. Heard her running, or C'rynn. Suddenly she stood stock still. Her fierce blue eyes the trees. Within a second or two she saw something moving, and quickly. It had to be a man. Her instinct was instant. The only place to go was high. If he hadn't seen her yet it was her only place to hide. She might even be able to pick him off with her bow. She climbed as fast as she could. Once she reached mid-height of the tree she stopped to find her mark once more. He was easily findable against the stillness of the forest. Maybe these assassins weren't the silent bringers of death that people talked about in hushed tones. She reached for her bow as she tracked him. Something stopped her. This was a man, but not the man she'd seen in the carriage yesterday. He was tall, and he moved with grace and speed no Nord could. A glimpse of his face told her he was an elf. But not like the arrogant Thalmor that occasionally visited Jarl Balrgruuf, nor like Irileth's Dunmer people. Bosmer? What was he running toward? Freir scrambled higher to try and see what it was that he sought with the burning determination she recognised on his face. She caught a glint of reflected sunlight from something up ahead, it looked like a carriage. The golden highlights of the Riften emblem shone in the sun. It was turned over on its side, and next to it was the thug she'd seen driving it toward her unknowing brother. By the Nine he was a mess. Something had ripped him wide open. Blood covered the ground around him.  
She couldn't see any sign of the merchant, or that horse of his. The elf was heading straight for the carriage. He must have been chasing them. Was he a friend of Sigurd's? Her heart lifted at the thought. Then it froze. Oh Kyne, he was headed straight for a wolfpack. They must've attacked the carriage. They had the Bosmer's scent and he had no idea what he was heading into.  
C'rynn was pounding toward the carriage now – he must have caught the scent of the wolves. "Kill them C'rynn!" she shouted as she leapt from the tree, swinging on two branches to make a soft landing. As she stood up from the landing Freir brought her bow from her back strap. She ran toward the wolves as she nocked her arrow.

She was behind C'rynn, rushing toward five wolves. Her first bolt pierced straight through a wolf's skull. The second hit one in its flank. The others were on them now, the distraction had worked. That Bosmer had better have some answers for her. C'rynn pounced on the nearest wolf, his paws pushed his prey down and his fangs sank into its throat. The last two ran straight for Freir. She started to draw her bow, but they were close now. And fast. She saw them leap, it was too late. "C'rynn!" Freir screamed and flinched, her eyes shut.

A second passed. She heared C'rynn snarl, a call, he stops. She was still alive. Frier uncurled herself and opened her eyes. It was him. And he was doing something to C'rynn.

He was tickling C'rynn! He hadn't purred like that since he was a cub.

"Get your hands off him! C'rynn! Get here."

She looked down at the rock in front of her. The last two wolves were pinned together with a single bolt. It had the finest feathering she'd ever seen.

"Why are you angry? I've just saved your life"

"Saved MY life? You're as arrogant as the rest of them. We saved you Elf-boy. You were heading straight for those wolves – And get your hands off my Cat." Freir struggled to keep her emotion under control.

The wood elf laughed. A light, lilting laugh. He had the most startling yellow eyes. He leant down and whispered in C'rynn's ear. C'rynn dropped his head, stood up and walked toward Freir.

"An animal like this belongs to no-one. He stays with you out of love. And you owe him a great deal. As for me, well, No animal of this realm would attack me. I'm Niruin. And I'm curious what a Nord girl is doing playing out in the woods. I thought your kind spent most of your time chasing after those ignorant louts in the mead halls?"


End file.
